Life is just like drinking water in winter, only those who drink it know the flavor by their own experience. In a sense, life is a rose, and no one can explain it clear whether it is a lovely flower with more thorns or a thorny flower which is delicate and charming beyond compare. Otherwise, life has also offered us a the harbor of soul post and affection—family where we can heal the wounds left by bitter life. I believe in the strength and endurance of family. I believe that families come from all sorts of different places, and through all sorts of different ways. 

Families teach so much in life. It is in a family where you learn to love, respect and trust, just to name a few. It is in a family where you can say what you want and not have to worry about what others will think of you. It is in a family where you can fight one day and say you hate the person, and yet, be right back to normal the next day. It is in a family where you can always be you.

I first started my belief in family when I was very young. My parents were always a strong presence in my life, and we would do everything together. I remember one of my earliest appreciations of my family was in the winter. We had a wood fireplace, and it was my responsibility to keep the family warm. Late at night, I would go outside and pile cold pieces of wood onto a wheel barrel, the wheel barrel would wobble back and forth in my hand as I would walk the hundred yards over the uneven snow to the house, then traveling back and forth I would take the logs into the house. It was always expected of me to put the logs into the fireplace and start a fire. I loved that responsibility.

It was sad the year we all had to leave the house we grew up in. I hated leaving the fireplace, and all the memories I had of walking through the freezing cold to warm up our house.

At the age of fourteen, my family broke up. I ended up with a new type of family after that: friends. We were the best of friends. We would do everything together and eventually build our own make-shift unity of family. Even though we were not a blood family, we were a family. We would hang out, and devise new ways to make life more interesting. We would fight for the right to be the leader of the group from time to time, yet we always knew we had love for each other.

After I turned eighteen, I was forced to leave my families for study. I found another new type of family. They were authors of every kind of literature, and the library became our family room. I would sit and read for hours, then days, then, as the years past, I found myself relying on these authors more and more to help me through the hardest times of my life.

Now living by myself, I can say one thing reminds me of all the love in this world and that is the people I proudly call “Family.”